


like water in your hands

by englishsummerrain



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Breathplay, Canon Compliant, Choking, Dom Huang Ren Jun, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Minor Lee Jeno/Zhong Chen Le
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25125946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishsummerrain/pseuds/englishsummerrain
Summary: It’s about letting go. It’s about being in freefall and handing Renjun the parachute cord. Closing his eyes and knowing — knowing with all of his heart — that Renjun will stop him from hitting the ground.And god, isn’t that fucking terrifying?
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 17
Kudos: 205





	like water in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> i watched a video that im sure was supposed to be about the rest of dream but really all i could notice was the fact that renjun just kept constantly putting donghyuck into headlocks and let's just say the rest is history.
> 
> yes this is tender no i do not apologise. i have a renhyuck soulmates intimacy in violence disease. 
> 
> thanks to vivi as always for reassuring me and encouraging me to write this instead of.. any of my other wips. oh dear.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’re losing by a mile on the ‘popped a boner on camera’ tally at this point,” Jaemin says, waving around his notes app in Jeno’s face like the count is a weapon.

“I still say we should have counted your one at the concert as ten points,” Donghyuck says. “Then maybe there’d actually be some competition.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, turning on him with his finger pointed.“You’re just trying to make yourself feel better. Stop trying to avoid the issue at hand.”

“The issue at hand,” Donghyuck echoes. “Your dick has always been an issue, and I truly hope it’s never in anyone’s hand.”

“Oh yeah, because you and Renjun don’t suck each other’s cocks on the daily.”

Beside him, Chenle covers Jisung’s ears, only to have Jisung circle his fingers around his wrists and peel his hands away with a slight frown. Renjun snickers.

Somehow he’s avoided blame in this situation, even though it’s absolutely his fault. Adding something to the boner tally, that is. Not the existence of the tally — which is another story entirely involving Jaemin sitting in Jeno’s lap and far too much wiggling. A story for another time.

This time though, it’d been business as usual. V LIVE, sitting on the couch in the practice room together. Renjun in Donghyuck’s lap, because he was afforded the privilege sometimes — because the company has decided they like playing into their relationship now. Nevermind that they’ve been sleeping together for years at this point — they missed the mark on that one.

Donghyuck had made a snarky remark at Renjun’s expense — one that had come with his signature smirk tacked on. A challenge and a bait all wrapped up in one, the way they’ve always liked to play with each other. Hard and fast and loose — on camera, in the dorms, in front of anyone who’ll watch. Donghyuck challenges, Renjun answers.

Renjun had grabbed Donghyuck in a headlock and tugged him sideways, pretending to choke him out while Chenle and Jeno continued their conversation. Business as usual, Donghyuck playing dead while Renjun squeezed lightly at his neck. Business as usual until Renjun released him.

They know each other at this point. Renjun can predict Donghyuck’s reactions most of the time — especially when it comes to being on camera, when that beautifully crafted persona comes out to play. When Donghyuck doesn’t react with a laugh — with a giggle, with the reassuring smile he always gives Renjun after they’ve teased each other on camera — he worries. Donghyuck’s arms wind around his waist and he tries to pull him back, but Renjun’s instinct is to check on him.

“You okay?” he whispers, just as Jaemin makes a loud ‘ahh’, the conclusion of whatever Jeno had been talking about.

“I’m fine. Just don’t move.”

His arms are tight around Renjun’s waist, and Renjun realises very quickly why he shouldn’t move.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two days later they’re in Donghyuck’s dorm. Johnny’s on the tenth floor but Doyoung and Taeyong are very much still here, which means Renjun has turned up the music to enough of a level that it vaguely covers the sounds of the rustling sheets — but not enough that Doyoung will come knock on the door and tell them to shut up.

Renjun moans, drawing his nails down Donghyuck’s chest, clenching around his cock as Donghyuck’s hips work against him. His fingers dig into Renjun’s ass and Renjun pants, rolling into the rhythm, leaning down and pressing a sloppy kiss to Donghyuck’s mouth. He braces himself against him — hands latched onto his shoulders, thumbs pressed against the base of his neck — just as Donghyuck grips tight enough to bruise and starts to fuck into him hard. The noise of flesh on flesh is loud, and Renjun has to stop him, shifting his weight back down and praying that no-one had heard what was definitely, unquestionably the sound of two people fucking the life out of each other.

“Too much,” he says. Donghyuck whines.

“I know,” he says with a pout. “I hate it. Let them hear.”

“You’re a kinky little fuck,” Renjun says, but he’s grinning. Donghyuck is too, his hips moving in tiny circles, his cock shifting inside Renjun.

“And you love me.”

“I do,” Renjun purrs, pressing another kiss to his lips. He runs his hands through Donghyuck’s hair, stopping to fist a chunk and tug at it, delivering a sharp dash of pain that makes Donghyuck’s lashes flutter and his whole body arc beneath him. Kinky little fuck indeed.

Oh, it’s so nice to be like this. To be in complete control. Donghyuck pinned beneath his weight, his entire body at his mercy. So open, so vulnerable. So fucking beautiful.

Renjun draws his hands down Donghyuck’s chest and Donghyuck’s grip tightens in return. He’s always been responsive, even before they learned each other this way. Always leaning into Renjun, always _allowing_ him just a little more. Like they were moulded together, broken apart only to reform again. He thinks they were always meant to be like this.

Renjun rests his hand against the base of Donghyuck’s throat — light, barely a feather touch, thumb resting against his pulse — and Donghyuck lets out the most unholy noise. It’s garbled and pitched high, a moan that gurgles out of him. His hips jerk up and it takes a second for Renjun to realise that Donghyuck is coming. His hand is still resting against Donghyuck’s throat and — oh.

Isn’t that interesting.

  
  
  
  
  


“Did you know Donghyuck is into choking?” Renjun asks. Jeno almost spits out his ramen. He drops his chopsticks and stares at Renjun with his mouth open for a second before he regains his composure.

“You chose to open up this conversation with that? No, I did not know he’s into choking.” He grunts, shaking off the droplets of water from the end of his chopsticks and picking up another mouthful of noodles. “You’re the one fucking him. Why are you asking me?”

“You’re like. One of his best friends.”

“He doesn't really talk about sex much.”

“Are _you_ into choking?”

The progression of Jeno’s skin from normal to bright red is almost instant — he flushes all over, ears turning the colour of a firetruck, his cheeks rosy. “No!”

“So I shouldn’t ask Chenle for advice?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeno says. He hisses it out — like they’re not alone in the dorm, like someone might hear then. “Just shut the fuck up. I'm trying to eat.”

Renjun snorts, doodling on the corner of a CU receipt with a pen he’d swiped from the SM cafe. The purchase is for six bottles of banana milk and nothing else — Jisung’s latest obsession, then. “Okay.”

Jeno slurps up his noodles, his eyes remaining on Renjun, who gives him the most innocent smile possible. He knows by now it doesn't work on _any_ member of Dream, but he figures he should still practice it. It certainly still works on their manager — on half of their hyungs. Doyoung, Taeyong — Kun. Renjun's cute. He'll continue to abuse it for as long as he can.

"You know," Jeno says, grumbling as he picks out the last pieces of meat substitute from the bottom of the cup and pops them into his mouth, "I always thought _you_ were the one who was into choking. What, with all those chokeholds you put us into."

"It's the only way to restrain you."

"You could just not restrain me?"

Renjun laughs. He draws a little sun on the receipt then adds sunglasses to it. "Where's the fun in that?"

"You're a freak," Jeno says, "Though I'm sure you already know that."

Renjun just smirks, smile growing wider as Jeno's face gets redder.

"Will you stop looking at me like that," Jeno says. "I told you he doesn't talk about his sex life with me. I've _asked_ him not to. I don't need to hear about you like being destroyed in bed or something." He covers his face with his hand and groans. "God, you're fucked up, Renjun."

"You love me," Renjun coos. It's always so fun to wind Jeno up — he's so fucking _easy_. He opens his mouth and Jeno cuts him off.

"Don't correct me. I know he's into. Whatever it is he's fucking into."

Renjun laughs — because Jeno is, too. He's seen the handprint shaped bruises on his ass — all the bite marks that have the print of Chenle's oddly sharp canines on them. Well. He's talked to Jeno about it quite a few times, too. All the little whimpers when Renjun's teasing fell on just the right side of painful. He figures if he ever wants to rig the boner chart, he'll just start pinching Jeno on camera.

"But that has nothing to do with being choked," Jeno says. He cheeks are _bright fucking red_. He's absolutely adorable, and Renjun reaches over and pinches one, earning a bat at his hand. "Don't," Jeno says. "I'm being serious. He trusts you, Renjun. If that's what you're asking — then that's what it is. It's not about the pain. It's about trust. It's about letting you in."

An image flashes in his head — Chenle with his hand wrapped so delicately around Jeno's neck — and then he blinks and it's Donghyuck he sees instead. The look in his eyes as Renjun loomed over him — the way his entire _body_ had reacted to just the presence of Renjun's fingers on his throat. He hadn't applied pressure — had barely even touched him — and Donghyuck had come.

What a terrifying power to hold. Not something taken — but given.

  
  
  
  
  


The first time he’d slept with Donghyuck was on Mark’s nineteenth birthday. 

In all honesty, he should have seen it coming. The flirty touches. The way Donghyuck had begun to gravitate to him. Ever since Jaemin’s return to the group the equilibrium had become unbalanced — ever since Mark and Donghyuck had fought and Donghyuck had seemed lost, flung into the void, drifting between the rest of them like he was a boat with the mooring cut. He’d clung to Renjun, but in the way that had seemed like he was still trying to keep his distance. To not attach himself.

To not allow himself to be hurt again.

Renjun had had a splitting headache — had excused himself back to his room even as Jaemin and Mark were laughing over the cake Jeno had managed to smear across his face. No-one had watched him leave. No-one except Donghyuck, who’d crawled into his bed five minutes later.

There were so little words exchanged. It’s always been like that. Even back then they understood each other. Even back then they mirrored each other — not perfectly, but well enough that there were just names. Just murmurs lost in the warm August air. The AC humming in the background, laughter spilling through the closed door. Donghyuck’s body against his, his hands in his hair. Promises and kisses — legs tangled together, sloppy movements. His fingers in Donghyuck’s mouth, hushing him. 

Donghyuck hadn’t wanted to be hurt then, but now Renjun knows that he relishes the pain. The way Renjun’s nails feel clawing into his back — the dig of his teeth into his muscles. When he’s crying and sobbing and Renjun’s name is like blood in his mouth — when Renjun goes beyond the point of sanity and leaves him a whimpering mess.

He knows now what it’s about. Not the pain, not the tears. Not the marks Renjun leaves against his tan skin like brushstrokes — Donghyuck’s blood the paint, Renjun the artist. Not that Renjun has him like this — because Renjun would have him anywhere. 

It’s about letting go. It’s about being in freefall and handing Renjun the parachute cord. Closing his eyes and knowing — knowing with all of his heart — that Renjun will stop him from hitting the ground. 

And god, isn’t that fucking terrifying?

  
  
  
  
  


Renjun doesn't think of it for a few weeks. For almost a month. Not until they're on another trip — another festival in another country to perform the same three songs. Not until they're back at the hotel and Donghyuck has finished throwing back snacks and is lying on the sheets, naked as the day he was born, staring up at Renjun with eyes struck through with the gold of the hotel lighting. The AC blows goosebumps into his skin and his chest rises and falls with barely baited breath.

Honestly, Renjun thinks he's going to go mad. He still can't quite believe that Donghyuck is _his_. That he gets to have him like this forever — that he's not fucking dreaming every time he finds him in his bed.

"I don't think you need the ego boost," Renjun starts, momentarily distracted as he crawls up the mattress to sit beside him. He trails a finger across the swell of Donghyuck's cheek and Donghyuck gives him a lazy smile, eyes hooded.

"Go on," he says.

"Fuck, Donghyuck. You're so beautiful."

He runs his finger back down, pressing at the pillow of his lips and smiling when Donghyuck sucks his finger in. He lets him suck at it for a second before withdrawing it and trailing across his chin.

"Give me praise," Donghyuck says. He's like an emperor lying in a golden chair — like a fucking _god_. He preens under Renjun's gaze, his smile a symphony, the gleam of his eyes wicked and vulnerable at the same time.

"Only when you deserve it."

"I always deserve it."

Renjun leans in and presses a kiss to his lips, withdrawing as Donghyuck's hand comes up to thread itself through his hair. "I know," he murmurs, and Donghyuck gives him a smile — less smug, more soft. More born of that adoration Renjun has learned so well by now. The part of him that sings for Renjun — the part of Renjun that sings for Donghyuck.

There's the joke about how Donghyuck is always so full of himself — and then there's the truth. The naked truth. The implicit trust he and Renjun have in each other — how Renjun can just tell him how beautiful he is with his eyes alone, how he can say it in the tattoo of his heartbeat. He doesn't need to use his words for it, and yet he still does, because he thinks Donghyuck deserves it. He'll never get tired of saying it — when it's just them like this. Naked and vulnerable, no witnesses but each other.

He leans down and kisses Donghyuck again — and this time it's with intent. This time it's with force, with a crimson tinge of brilliant lust that burns up through him.

He'll never stop wanting Donghyuck. He'll never stop loving him. Never get tired of kissing him, of feeling his skin against his. His fingers run across his cheekbone and then dip down to thread in his hair and Donghyuck is cupping his face in return, holding him close as he steals the air from his lungs.

Renjun swings his leg over Donghyuck's body and straddles him, running his hands down his chest before he settles back into the kiss. It's the simplest thing for him — as simple as breathing, as walking, like riding a bike — something he'll never forget. He could be apart from Donghyuck for years and he's sure that when they'd reunite (when, always a when. The two of them are inevitable. He doubts even death could tear them apart) they'd fall back into the same rhythm so easily. That if the distance between them became too much that when it was closed Renjun would still remember everything about him.

He knows the spots that make his breath hitch. The way his ribcage feels beneath his touch. How he catches Renjun's lip between his teeth, how his hips roll beneath his. The mole here — Renjun draws his fingers across his shoulder — the scar there. Every part of Donghyuck — it's a part of him now.

And this trust. This trust between them. How beautiful is it to hold someone's heart in your hands.

His fingers crawl up Donghyuck's chest and Donghyuck stares at him, defiant. There's so much in that stare — so many promises, layered over years and years of knowing each other. His lips quiver as Renjun draws his fingers up his collarbone, and Renjun can't tear his eyes from him.

It's always been a joke. Play fighting. A flash of vulnerability so quickly caged. But they can never be caged with each other — never for too long. Another consequence of this thing they have — another terrible consequence of love.

"Donghyuck," Renjun says, and Donghyuck shakes, he shakes beneath his touch. His breath is measured, but it's measured in the way that Renjun knows he's holding back.

He's good at holding back, but Renjun's good at unravelling that.

He draws his index finger up the line of Donghyuck's neck, stopping to rub against his Adam's apple with his thumb as it bobs with the hitch of his breath. He’s aware of the power he holds right now — how Donghyuck has put so much into this.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck says. His name vibrates through his fingertips, and Renjun kisses him again — fingers still pressed against his throat, just the lightest amount of pressure. “Renjun,” Donghyuck repeats. “Want you to fuck me.” 

It’s so barely composed that Renjun has to stop and catch himself for a second, because he’s afraid he’s going to lose it — too. That he’ll fall into Donghyuck and forget why he came here — what he wants to do. He nods, shaky. Of course. Of course. 

He ends up bent over Donghyuck, the two of them swimming in the silky sheets. Donghyuck’s face is clasped between his palms and every time he moves he gasps into the kiss, minute whines that arc across his skin like synapses firing — like sparks that threaten to race up his throat as wildfire. He draws back, hips still moving, running his hands down Donghyuck’s sides and jerking at his cock, still so fucking addicted to the way he responds to him. The way his body moves beneath him, the stretch of his body. The softness of his stomach, his muscles tensing as Renjun spreads his palm across it. 

All his. Only ever his. 

His hand slides up again. Donghyuck’s eyes burn into his and his breath is shallow, his body tense. 

“Relax,” Renjun murmurs, and he sees Donghyuck try — he feels him, parts of him unwinding, others staying tense. Renjun rubs his thumb up the side of his neck and watches him — the part of his lips, the hitch in his breath. The dark flush blooming across his chest — embarrassment to an untrained eye, but by now Renjun knows it’s arousal. “I’ve got you, Donghyuck.”

He fits his hand around Donghyuck’s throat and again — again it’s that inhuman moan. Something sharp as broken glass, tangled and wet, but Renjun’s not touching his cock and Donghyuck is ready for it this time. He doesn’t come, he just goes incoherent. Fingers tightening in the sheets — he knows Renjun well. The ‘ _don’t touch_ ’ is implicit, and Donghyuck isn’t up for being a brat today. He won’t touch — just watch. Just allow Renjun to take him apart.

“Go,” Donghyuck says. He tilts his head up, baring his neck like he’s waiting for his execution. It makes Renjun so fucking dizzy — like he’s the one without air. Like he’s the one with his lover’s hand around his throat. 

Renjun presses his thumb to Donghyuck’s pulse point and — god. He’s shaking. He’s still fucking into Donghyuck with the smallest movements, more involuntary than anything — but he’s shaking. 

“C’mon,” Donghyuck says. His throat bobs again as he swallows. “C’mon, Renjun.”

To hold someone’s heart in your hands. To hold their life in your hands. 

Renjun applies pressure — lightly, just a squeeze, just a press against Donghyuck’s throat — and receives a full body response. Donghyuck clamps down around him and his entire body arcs, a ragged breath drawn past his open lips and rattling through his ribcage. 

“Please,” Donghyuck says — and Renjun isn’t cruel, but sometimes he can’t resist. 

“Please what?”

“ _Touch me_.”

It sparks something in him — a kind of wild desperation he tries to not let loose on. A kind of desperation that scares him, because it reminds him of how utterly gone he is for Donghyuck. How he would do anything for him — how he has. Renjun takes Donghyuck’s cock in his free hand and runs his thumb over the head, tightening his grip on his throat, channeling that energy into giving back to Donghyuck.

Good _god_. 

Donghyuck gasps — ragged, choked and blocked off — and his cock jumps in Renjun’s hand. It’s like nothing Renjun has ever felt before, this heady burst of _power_ that explodes through him. Donghyuck angles his neck up, pressing harder against the cage of Renjun’s hand, and Renjun presses back down in return. It’s hard for him to fuck him — the only thing he has to brace himself on is Donghyuck’s neck — but he jerks at him, he holds him, he watches the way Donghyuck falls apart.

It’s the rush of blood in his ears — like being pushed into the waves. Donghyuck’s cock pulses in his hand and he loses himself, hips stuttering, grip tight enough that Donghyuck will absolutely be wearing a collar of bruises tomorrow. Donghyuck falls apart in his grasp — a choked moan ripped from his throat, and Renjun lets it all hit him, lets the tide take him out with a thundering roar. He spills inside Donghyuck, his entire focus narrowed down to his throat beneath his grip — the struggle of his breath, the way his body goes limp before Renjun releases him. Donghyuck takes a great ragged gasp, wheezing — like Renjun had dragged him up from drowning — and pulls him down to kiss him.

“Holy fuck,” he says. His voice is shot through — Renjun is glad this had happened _after_ they’d performed, or he thinks management would never forgive him. Though — considering the bruises Donghyuck will likely develop — he’s still not sure they will.

Renjun pulls out of him with a grunt and curls up against him, pulling Donghyuck onto his side against him to make it easier to kiss him, rubbing his thumb against his neck as he does so.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. Of course Donghyuck is hurt. Jeno had said that wasn’t the point, but in some way that’s always the point. Donghyuck needs it. Renjun’s just accepted that. It’s always better if there’s something white hot knifing under Donghyuck’s skin.

“Vaguely worried you’ve ruined my singing voice.”

“Wish I could ruin your normal voice. Give me some peace and quiet.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck says, chuckling. “So that’s why you wanted to try this?”

Renjun kisses him again, making use of his tongue in his mouth to shut him up. “I wanted to try it because you wanted to try it.”

“Mmm,” Donghyuck hums. “And now you have to baby me after choking the life from me.” He coughs. “Fuck. My throat really _is_ sore, though.”

“It’s okay,” Renjun says. He presses a soft kiss to his lips and extracts himself from the bedsheets, digging a set of wet wipes out of his bag and coming back to clean the both of them up before collapsing beside Donghyuck again. “You don’t need to talk.”

“But I want to.”

“But you don’t _need_ to.”

Donghyuck pouts. His eyes sparkle like starshine and he’s sweaty and flushed and the air smells like sex and parts of his skin stick to Renjun’s — his thigh jammed between his legs, his hand tangled in his hair. As close as he can — physically — hand against Renjun’s heartbeat. His fingertips press against his ribcage and Renjun gives him another kiss — slow and languid. There’s no rush. There’s nowhere to go. It all settles around them and Renjun notices he feels lighter. Like something has been lifted from his shoulders he didn’t even know he was carrying.

Again — words. Things they don’t need to say. There’s a lot Renjun doesn’t say — a lot he reads in Donghyuck’s eyes, in the way he holds him. He wonders if it’s etched into his bones, if it’s a part of his bloodstream by now, tattooed into his heart the way so many other parts of Donghyuck are. 

It’s fucking terrifying — but Donghyuck has taught him how to face that fear. He's clasped it in his hands and crushed it, and it no longer has any power over him. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter ](https://twitter.com/dongrenle)and [cc.](https://curiouscat.me/goldhorn)


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